Shadow on the Roof
by Siese
Summary: Damon's POV on Caroline's rooftop. I tried adding similarities between his and Elena's thoughts.


Disclaimer: I own NONE of these characters…unfortunately…trust me if I did you wouldn't be reading my crap for free. I grovel before Miss LJ Smith and await her next brilliant novel.

I tried adding similarities to what Damon and Elena were thinking, and I quoted everything they say from the book. Tell me how it goes, but if you have anything mean to say, please sugar-coat it.

Damon watched the three girls break into that supple, bronze creature's house and begin to rummage through her things. He could feel Elena begin to worry about touching anything for fear that the owner would find it had been moved.

When that sickly little game of tag began, he couldn't help but laugh at her. She was forced up the stairs and into the last room in the hall. He bit back a snicker and breathed in deeply, absorbing her scent and the beating of her speeding pulse, wanting to drink her in right there. When she ran out into the darkness through the French windows—which was just beneath him—he could almost _feel_ her heartbeat speed up with panic when she saw a silhouette through the creamy, billowing curtains. She jumped for the overhang of the balcony, knowing she wouldn't make it but doing so anyway. Casually, he reached out and caught her wrist, pulling her to safety and away from the Forbes family member.

"The name _is_ Salvatore. As in savior." He smiled wickedly, expecting her to freeze up like she had at the party upon seeing him.

She glanced down at the balcony and then up to him, her eyes challenging. "I thought it was Smith." She countered.

He laughed, soaking her radiance into his flesh like the sun that he could no longer endure unless clouds shaded it. She was _different_ from normal humans; certainly nothing at all like Katherine had been. Katherine had been delicate, like a rose pedal. Elena, however, was the sun that blinded all around her. The sun, if hot enough, could _melt_ a rose pedal with its radiance.

He watched her settle back on one heel, obviously willing to talk with him, and regard him warily. He stared at her briefly, lounging against the roof like he'd been there for hours. He sat up and rested his arms on his knees and said, "You're not going to scream at me? Or faint?" Considering she'd done both of those before, well the former more than the latter, he thought he might as well give her an invitation to do her routine again.

He could sense her calculating something, but he didn't know what. His attention was drawn to the conversation as she announced shortly, "I don't faint." There was a pause, and then she continued, "And why would I scream at you? We were playing a game. I was stupid that night and so I lost. You warned me in the graveyard about the consequences."

Damon was appalled. Every time he'd seen her she'd been different. In the gym that night, she'd been frightened out of her mind. In the haunted house she'd been almost too busy to even realize he'd been there. In the graveyard she'd been full of rage, and that rage had made her bold enough to hit him. And now…now she was calm and collected, but the fiery fire remained in her gaze and in her soul, warming and freezing everything around her at the same time, like a fire caught inside a glacier. "I may just have to make you my Queen of Shadows." He thought about what it would be like to spend eternity with that fire. "I've had many companions, girls as young as you and women who were the beauties of Europe. But you're the one I want at my side. Ruling, taking what we want when we want it. Feared and worshipped by all the weaker souls. Would that be so bad?"

"I _am_ one of the weaker souls." Oh, how little she knew. "And you and I are enemies, Damon. We can never be anything else."

"Are you sure?" He brushed against her mind, trying to get inside and see what she was thinking and if she really thought they could only be enemies for eternity. That was until his mind came up against a blank white wall. A single thought swam through his mind: _vervain_. He nodded slightly to himself, though she didn't see the movement, and took the setback with grace. He always did enjoy a challenge. "What are you doing here?"

"Caroline took something that belonged to me." She stated simply. "A diary. I came to get it back."

Annoyance and aggravation flashed into his expression, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. "Undoubtedly to protect my worthless brother somehow." _Damn him to hell and back_.

"Stefan isn't involved in this!" She defended her lover fiercely.

"Oh, isn't he? Strange, he always seems to be involved when there's trouble. He _creates_ problems. Now, if he were out of the picture…" His hope was to get a rise out of her, and he succeeded.

She spoke steadily, though he could sense the bubble of fury and rage deep inside her aura, even past the protection of the vervain. "If you hurt Stefan again I'll make you sorry." He paused to remember the last time he'd seen his brother, and the taste of him. "I'll find some way to make you wish you hadn't, Damon. I mean it."

"I see. Well then, I'll just have to work on you then, won't I?" He watched triumphantly as she looked away. He'd finally backed her into a corner, and she couldn't talk her way out. "I'm going to have you in the end, you know." He said softly, almost in a whisper. "By hook or by crook, as you people say—that's a nice phrase—you'll be mine before the next snow flies." He waited as a shiver shook her. "Good. You do have some sense. You're right to be afraid of me; I'm the most dangerous thing you're ever likely to encounter in your life." He paused, evaluating the newest thought that had developed in the back of his mind. "But just now I have a business proposition for you."

"A _business_ proposition?"

"Exactly. You came here to get a diary. But you haven't got it." He gestured to her empty hands arrogantly. "You failed, didn't you?" He paused to see if she would say something, but when she didn't he continued. "But since you don't want to get my brother _involved_, he can't help you. But I can. And I will."

He could smell her doubt. "You will?"

He thought quickly, wondering just what it was that he could say to make her blood run cold. "Of course. For a price."

He watched pleasurably as she tried to speak feebly, her cheeks blushing over fine cheekbones as his words sank in. "What _price_?"

Suddenly, another idea swept into his mind. He knew _exactly_ what to say to make her shudder in horror. He smiled. "A few minutes of your time, Elena. A few drops of your blood. An hour or so spent with me, alone."

"You…" He grinned wickedly when she couldn't think of the right word to use against him. He knew he'd won.

"I'll have it anyway, eventually." He continued, watching her eyes glaze over with anger. "If you're honest, you'll admit that to yourself. Last time wasn't the last. Why not accept that?" His voice dropped to a low growl. "Remember…"

"I'd rather cut my throat."

His mind and mouth worked in unison. He didn't even have to think about his comeback as it rolled off his tongue, just as smoothly as her blood had. "An intriguing thought, but I can do it so much more enjoyably."

"You're disgusting; you know that. You're sickening." She hissed, and he could see her begin to shiver in rage. "I'd die before I'd give in to you. I'd rather—"

Suddenly he sensed her calculating something again, and before he knew it she was saying, "I'd rather do this," and she launched herself over the edge of the roof.

All thought left his mind and he was pretty sure he went even whiter than was usual. In those seconds, he dove after her, his hand reaching out. When he made contact with her, he tightened his hand, praying it was a good grip. Was she trying to commit suicide? _She's insane._ He thought, suddenly angry.

"You little _fool_!" He raged. "If you're that eager to meet death I can introduce you myself."

She wasn't fazed by his evident anger, as she normally would have been. Even in the face of her own death she kept her cool. "Let go of me. _Let go of me_."

"Here and now?" He was pretty sure he could have dropped her without a second thought if she'd only given him the word.

"It would be a fast way to end things, wouldn't it?" Despite the coolness of her voice, he could hear the pounding of her heart and smell the fear radiating off of her. He had to give her credit; she was an astounding actress.

"But such a waste." He said aloud, thinking of how she was so desperately in love with his brother. He flicked his wrist, bringing her back to safety beside him. His arms tightened around her when her feet were back on the roof. Gathering himself, he jumped into the darkness, enjoying the way she clung to him fearfully.

On the ground, he said, "Think about my proposition." And as he looked down at her, still pressed so tightly against him, the world seemed to stop moving around them. Everything was focused on their bodies, together. The physical attraction was wild and unkempt, so unlike her relationship with Stefan.

"I don't need you for anything." He barely heard her speak the words over his mind yelling at him to do something.

He was brought out of his reverie by a voice from the balcony yelling, "Hey! What's going on? Is somebody out there?"

Regaining his wits, he announced softly, "This time I did you a favor. Next time I'm going to collect."

And with that, he changed into the shape of a crow and flew into the darkness, hearing the voice from the balcony curse at him and throw something: a shoe. He watched her rejoin her friends and start on the journey home before flying away. After all, she had a big day coming up that he would just _hate_ to miss; he had to make sure the Queen got home to her chambers safely.


End file.
